


Shock Collar

by omgbubblesomg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angel Wings, Asphyxiation, Collared Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Mute Sam Winchester, Non-Graphic Violence, Sam Winchester Whump, Sign Language, shock collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: A cursed collar stops Sam from speaking, or making any noise at all. It doesn't stop him from being close to Cas.





	Shock Collar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



> Written for Tori who requested Sastiel + Shock collar for the Bad Things Happen Bingo :D 
> 
> Original fic [here](https://omgbubblesomg.tumblr.com/post/176405492601/shock-collar-or-i-have-you-now-my-pretty-sastiel)
> 
> (I added a little more for you my love)
> 
> Edit: i changed this to M instead of E as i dont think either the whump or sex are that graphic. Please leave a comment if you think it needs to be changed back.

He doesn’t wake up fast enough.

Sam is jerking in his arms, fighting off a nightmare, and Cas automatically slaps his hand over Sam’s mouth but he’s too late. Sam whimpers and it’s so quiet it’s almost not a sound at all but it’s enough for the collar. It jolts to life as Cas’s eyes fly open and Sam _screams._

“Sam!” Cas hauls on Sam’s shoulder to roll him onto his back but Sam’s thrashing beneath him, the blankets getting caught in his limbs until Cas throws them to the side. “Sam, stop! Stop yelling!” The collar is thin and pale and would be wholly unremarkable except for how Sam’s veins bunch up beneath it, his throat cording with muscle as he hauls in a half-breath to continue screaming, his voice wretched and agonising and plenty loud for the collar to keep up its punishment.

“Get off!” he shrieks. “No! Not again!”

“You’re not there!” Cas catches his arms to stop them from pummeling his chest. “Sam, wake up! It’s me! You’re not there, you’re in the bunker, you have to stop, Sam, _please!”_

He draws on the tiny supply of grace he has left and throws his wings into the earthly plane, simultaneously shoving Sam’s hands up into them in the hopes that Sam will recognise him. Sam’s clutching fingers are way too harsh to be pleasurable, but his wings fluff excitedly nevertheless, thrilled to share a dimension with their mate.

“Help!” Sam screams, and the scream becomes a wail as his whole body locks up.

“It’s me!” Cas covers Sam’s body with his wings. “Sam, open your eyes! It’s me!” Sam’s fingers tighten in Cas’s feathers and it would be cruel but Cas knows it’s not meant in cruelty. Sam would already be apologising if he wasn’t still stuck in his nightmare, reliving the brutality he’d faced as a captive for the past month.

It’s a last resort that Cas wishes he didn’t have to use but he’d rather that Sam hated him than for him to be in even one second of unnecessary pain. He slams his palm down across Sam’s open mouth and clamps his nose shut with his other hand. Sam is silent for half a beat and then his eyes fly open and he grunts with whatever air he still has in his lungs. It’s enough of a sound for the collar, which doesn’t let up for even a second as Sam’s body starts to convulse and his fingers turn to claws in Cas’s wings.

The pressure is far from enjoyable but he’s always taken his pleasure with a side of pain, and his wings can’t distinguish Sam’s current grip to something he might do in ecstasy. He grits his teeth and doesn’t let himself push his wings back where they came from, a decision he’s fervently grateful for when Sam’s eyes lock on his, finally awake, and he stops yelling beneath his palm. It takes another thirty seconds for the collar to shut off and for Sam to collapse back on the bed. There’s nothing but fear in the blown-wide set of his pupils but Cas splits his fingers carefully so Sam can gasp a mouthful of air around them. The gasp must be too loud because he yells and arches and one of Cas’s feathers rips free beneath his grasping hands before Cas has a time to shut his mouth again. Another thirty seconds passes before he collapses again and this time when Cas spreads his fingers Sam is careful to only take the smoothest breath, no hint of sound passing from his lips as he does.

Cas withdraws his hands completely and cards his fingers through Sam’s hair and pretends not to notice as Sam wipes the tear tracks off his cheeks. He folds his wings around them and rolls off Sam, onto his side. Sam turns to face him and clumsily signs _Sorry_ between their chests.

Cas kisses his cheek, and then the eyelid above it where the eyelashes are still clumped and wet. He can’t help himself from looking for injuries, though he knows there’s none. At least none that are visible. The skin beneath the collar is unmarked. The collar glints innocently as he thumbs it, as though it was just a piece of metal, albeit one with no catch, no clasp, no decoration.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he whispers, finally. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” Sam’s chest hitches but he doesn’t sob. He ducks his head, shimmying down the bed and bumping Cas’s chin up until he can fit under it. He slides his free hand around Cas’s waist to card through his feathers in imitation of the way Cas is still smoothing back his sweaty hair. Cas’s wings fluff and arch of their own accord, blissful under Sam’s touch.

 _It’s okay,_ Sam signs one-handed, a full second before Cas begins to apologise for the erection against his hip.

Cas guiltily tries to pull Sam’s hand out from his feathers. They haven’t been intimate since Sam got back and Cas doesn’t want to go there until he can take Sam with him. They can’t do anything while the risk of an inadvertent sound is too high.

“Don’t,” Cas whispers, tugging on Sam’s wrist. “I don’t need—”

 _It’s okay,_ Sam signs again, and then he does the curious half-chest-half-chin sign that is somewhere between a _Please_ and a _Thank you_ and it’s so polite and entirely Sam. Like he knows Cas will fold if he says it just right.

“We can wait until the collar’s off,” Cas whispers, but Sam doesn’t let him pull away.

 _Want,_ Sam signs. _Feel. You._ Cas knows the words by feel rather than sight. The shape of them between their chests. The shape of _Sam_ there. The precise twist of his hands. The way he pauses between each word because he’s still learning and sentences are hard.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, and touches Sam’s finger where it’s still pressed to his sternum. He lifts it to his lips and kisses the fingertip and Sam traces his bottom lip. He looks infinitely sad. “We’ll get it off,” Cas promises. “Soon.”

Sam shakes his head. He drags his fingernails against the sensitive membrane where _skin_ becomes _feathers,_ and uses his other hand to sign. _Want,_ he signs again. _Now._ Then he taps Cas’s chest three times. _You, you, you._ He brings his thigh over Cas’s and uses his knee to draw them closer together. His breath is hot against Cas’s neck and he shimmies back up the bed so he can kiss Cas. Soft and chaste, like always. He rocks their hips together and Cas can’t help but groan, though he feels guilty as soon as he does. Sam grins against his lips and rocks again, his fingers going a little tighter where they’re buried.

Cas knows Sam isn’t hard, but he also knows that Sam has always craved intimacy; valued it higher even than sex. To be close. To be felt. To be touched and kissed and _loved._ To know that the person you love is nearby.

The hand in Cas’s wing slips further back, and Sam begins to explore the fluffy feathers near the arch of Cas’s wing. It’s been so long since Cas has felt Sam’s hands at all—let alone felt them here, where he’s most sensitive—that he really can’t fault himself for groaning and hitching his hips again. Sam breathes noiselessly against his cheek.

He fits one arm between them and crosses it over Sam’s, making the sign for _Love_ and pressing it back towards Sam’s chest. He doesn’t bother with the _I_ or the _You._ Just _Love._ Again, again. _Love. Love._ Sam presses it back to him each time, so they pass the word between them. The collar glints dimly; evilly. But it has no power in the face of what they have.

Sam’s fingers continue their thorough exploration of Cas’s wings, and between them is still just _Love, love, love._ Cas feels himself draw upwards with each reiteration. His wings arch and fold, covering them both like a blanket. His cock is heavy and hard against Sam’s belly, and it feels like just another way of saying the same thing.

Sam’s knee wriggles its way between his and rises insistently, pressing up against his balls and giving him something to ride against properly. He shudders and squeezes his legs around Sam’s thigh. It’s been too long since they’ve done this, and Sam brings him up easily, quickly, and rocks him into a spiralling orgasm within minutes.

Cas tries to be silent through it, for Sam’s sake, but from Sam’s rueful smile he knows he isn’t truly successful.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and Sam kisses the apology off his lips, sweet and tender and soft because anything more and one of them might break. “We’ll keep looking tomorrow,” Cas promises quietly, as Sam tucks his head beneath Cas’s chin again. “We’ll keep looking and we’ll find a spell, I promise.”

The collar glints like it can hear them.

 

 

 


End file.
